Of Grumpy Cats and Overgrown Puppies
by sephydark
Summary: America and England want to adopt a pet together, but they can't agree on which one to get. Written for aph fluffathon on livejournal.


"C'mon England, we _have_ to get a dog," America said for about the twentieth time since his argument with England over what kind of pet they would get (the decision that they were going to get one had already been made some weeks ago) had started.

"We've been over this before, a dog would be too much work. They get into everything, they take a lot of space, and they need constant attention. Cats are much easier to handle."

"But dogs are friendly and fun, and they don't like to eat heroes."

"America, cats can quite friendly too, if you get to know them. And they don't eat heroes except in those stupid films you keep making," England said, noticing that America was beginning to get that adorable pouty look on his face that he often got when things weren't going his way.

"But Englaaaaaand," America whined, his pout becoming more pronounced.

England sighed, knowing he couldn't win. Of course he wasn't going to change his position on what pet they should have, but he couldn't say no to America when he looked like that, and America knew it. "Perhaps we should wait until we actually see the animals before we decide on what to get," he conceded. "I'm sure you'll come around when you actually meet a cat."

"More likely you'll realize how awesome dogs are," America said, his pout having been replaced almost instantaneously with a triumphant grin.

* * *

A few days later America and England walked into the small waiting room at the animal shelter. America had insisted they adopt from a shelter, so that they could "save those poor, unwanted animals from their terrible fate," as he had put it. England had acquiesced with a sigh and a roll of his eyes, although secretly he thought this was one of those rare (or so he claimed) times when America's desire to be a hero was actually endearing.

The wait (and there was a wait; the shelter would not let too many people visit the animals at once) was probably under a half-hour, but felt much longer, especially once America started to complain about how boring the place was. England's first urge was to kiss him to shut him up-and give both of them something to to-but then he remembered that they were in a public place, so he settled for burying his head in his hands and hoping the wait would be over soon.

England gave a sigh of relief when they were finally ushered in to see the cats. He and America gravitated to different sides of the room, and England was just meeting a rather sweet tabby when a voice called him over.

"Hey En-Arthur, I think I found the one for you," America said, just barely remembering to use England's human name in public. He was sitting in the corner with a rather fluffy orange cat which swatted grumpily at his hand when he tried to pat it. "See? It has your temper."

"Wouldn't you be grumpy too, if someone disturbed your nap?" England asked, as he walked over to crouch next to the cat. "Yes, you just want to be left in peace, don't you," he cooed at the cat, rubbing one finger between its ears, causing it to close its eyes contently.

"Why does it let you touch it but not me?" America asked. Although he was clearly trying to hide it, England could tell this was making America unhappy, so he decided not to tease him about it.

"The secret is to be gentle. Cats don't like to be treated too roughly."

Sure enough, when America reached out to stroke it gently, like England had told him to, the cat did not try to stop him. In fact, even when after a little while it stretched and got up, it was only to climb onto America's lap. As it did so it gave him a look that clearly said "I will grace you with the privilege of having me curl up on your lap." It was a "privilege" America seemed thrilled to have.

America and his cat looked incredibly happy together, England thought as he played with some of the other cats. They would probably have stayed that way all day if he hadn't needed to drag America away to look at the dogs.

* * *

No sooner had they joined the dogs than one large yellow one bounded up to them, wagging its tail excitedly. "This one seems rather overenthusiastic," England said, trying to keep the dog from jumping up and knocking him over. "A bit like someone else I know."

"I bet it'd be happier if it could run around," America replied, ignoring England's last comment. "The man said there was a place in the back we could take it to play; d'you want to bring it there?"

England nodded his agreement, and soon enough he and the dog were engaged in an enthusiastic game of fetch. The dog really was like America, friendly and eager-to-please, if a bit overbearing at times. England actually found it rather endearing in both of them, not that he'd ever tell America that. Their game of fetch ended up morphing into some sort of strange chase game, which was cut short when America called him over, saying it was time to decide.

"Wow, you really got along well with that dog," said America, grinning hugely. "I don't think I've seen you run around like that since I was a colony. And _I_ had to remind _you_ of the time! Amazing."

England thought about protesting America's last sentence, but decided against it, figuring that they really should get to an agreement on their pet before getting into unrelated arguments. "So it's settled. We're getting the dog," he said as they both reentered the lobby.

"What? No way, what about Iggycat?"

"Iggycat? Do you mean that orange cat you were patting? What on earth possessed you to call it that?"

"Because it's just like you," America said, a huge grin spreading across his face. "And you're Iggy, of course."

"No, I'm not," England said, beginning to look irritated. "Honestly, how many times do I have to tell you not to use that stupid nickname?"

"But Iggy, it fits you! And it's cute."

"Very well, Meri," England said. He knew America hated that nickname just as much as he hated being called Iggy.

"Fine, I'll think of something else when I get home," America said grudgingly.

"We haven't even agreed that we're going to get the cat. I still want that dog."

England was getting ready for an argument similar to the ones they had had prior to visiting the shelter, but instead of protesting America started to look at him in a way that suggested he'd suddenly had a bright idea. "I know! We can adopt two; that way we can each get the one we want."

"Alfred, weren't you the one who wanted us to adopt one pet together? I seem to recall you saying that it would be 'just like having a kid.'"

"Yeah, but this could be like having two kids. And we'd still have to visit each other a lot so we could see them both, right?"

"Well, I suppose I can't see any glaring flaws in that plan," England said thoughtfully.

"See? I knew you'd agree!" America said. He was beaming, as if England had just given him the greatest compliment in the world.


End file.
